༻ 04 ༺

Ateala was Mr. Drayton's personal secretary who was Mr. Peterson's partner. She sat at her desk typing letters, the steady rhythm of the keyboard soothing in its familiarity, when a shadow fell across her workspace. She looked up. Mr. Peterson had taken a seat at the edge of her desk. Ateala froze. With him, interactions were always brief and formal. Good morning. Good evening. Is Mr. Drayton in? Nothing more. So seeing him sitting there-comfortable, unannounced, and watching her-felt unsettling, especially when he asked her how she was going.

Her mouth fell open and she had to stopped mid-sentence on the screen to stare at him. "Uh.... I'm fine. Mr Peterson." She blushed. "Is everything okay?" Mr. Drayton isn't in today. Do you need help with something?" She said nervously, her voice wavered despite her effort to sound professional, while he studied her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of herself. Then he smiled.

"You know," he said slowly, "I never noticed how pretty you are. Ms... Charles, right?"

The compliment caught her completely off guard and heat rushed to her face. Trevin Peterson was undeniably handsome-well-built, confident, the kind of man women gravitated toward effortlessly. That only made his attention more confusing.

"I'd like to have a word with you in my office," he continued, already standing. "If you don't mind."

"You want to... have a word with me?" she repeated, startled, then flushed at how foolish she sounded. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh no," he said smoothly. "Nothing wrong at all, Ms. Charles. Just follow me."

Her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed her bag. In her haste, she knocked a few items off her desk, papers sliding to the floor. She barely noticed, too focused on keeping up with him as she followed, nerves buzzing, down the corridor toward his office.

Trevin closed the office door behind them and didn't lock it.That alone should have reassured her. Somehow, it didn't."Please," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Have a seat."

Ateala sat, perching stiffly, bag clutched in her lap like a flotation device. Trevin remained standing for a moment, rolling his sleeves as if this were a casual conversation and not whatever this was shaping up to be. "I'm going to tell you something strange," he said. "Although it's personal, I'm still going to tell you because I need your help."

Her eyebrows jumped nervously. "Okay."

He smiled faintly, his eyes drifted to her well developed chest, lingered there for a bit and then came back to her face, which had a red tinged across her cheeks. He sat and leaned back against the desk, arms folded. "About three months ago, I woke up in a hotel room I didn't book. Naked. Robbed of everything except my dignity-which I suspect left earlier."

Her mouth fell open. "Oh my?"

"I know," he said. "Strong opening."

"No it sounds like a terrible situation to be in."

"It really was." He nodded solemnly. "Traumatic. Humbling."

She loosened her grip on her bag slightly.

"The room was booked in someone else's name," Trevin continued. "Paid for in cash. No ID on file. The footage shows someone coming in with me... and leaving alone."He slid a folder across to her, not opening it. "And here's the problem," he said quietly. "Everything points to that person working here."

Ateala stiffened. "Here?" She swallowed. "So why are you telling me?"

"Because," he said smoothly, "I need to know exactly who it is. You see everything. People talk in front of you like you're part of the furniture. And you remember things."

She blinked. Thinking that didn't sound like a compliment at all.

Trevin opened his desk drawer just enough for her to glimpse something glinting inside. "I still have the chain that was left behind," he said. "And a still image from the footage."

Ateala's fingers twitched. She quickly reached into her bag, unwrapped a ginger sweet, and popped it into her mouth. "Sorry," she said. "Indigestion."

Trevin's gaze sharpened, lingering a beat too long before he nodded. "Of course."

Silence stretched. Then he smiled again, easy and unthreatening. "I'm not asking you to accuse anyone. Just... listen. Observe. If something feels off, you let me know."

She shifted in her seat. "And if I say no?"

"Then this becomes an awkward story I tell my therapist," he said lightly. "And I'd have to get the police involved, which I was trying to avoid. I imagine the person responsible would prefer not to lose their job... or worse." He paused, then added smoothly, "I'll compensate you for your time."

That got her attention. She hesitated, then nodded once."Okay," she said after a moment. "I'll help, but there is no guarantee, that I'll discover anything."

"I know, but it will help if you do." he said. As she left Trevin's gaze followed her-the subtle sway of her hips as she walked-the curve of her waist and the faint tension in her shoulders, like she could feel his attention even without looking back.

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